Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel

by Nathan Squiers

“I’m not…” Xander stopped himself and pulled away from the officer’s touch, “I’m fine!”

  Shady, unsure of what else to say, stood silently.

  Xander sighed, keeping his eyes glued to the floor, “How did it happen?”

  “I don’t think I should—”

  “HOW DID SHE DIE?” Xander demanded through gritted teeth, glaring up at the cop.

  Shady took a step back before remembering his place and adjusted his footing, “We think it was an attempted mugging.”

  “You think?” Xander gave him a look.

  Shady nodded, “No witnesses have surfaced so we have to go based solely on—”

  “Who did it?” Xander fought to speak around the lump forming in his throat.

  “Just some punk kids,” Shady frowned then and looked away, “Nothing’s concrete yet, but we don’t think it was planned that way. They were probably after her purse or something like that, but like I said—”

  There was a loud pop then and the window to the right of the bed shattered, raining broken glass all over the floor. Before Xander could tell what had happened, Shady fell to the ground with a smoking hole the size of a golf ball on the right side of his head.

  Shortly after, the door burst open and Tom ran in, gun drawn. Seeing his partner dead on the floor, he whimpered and dropped to his knees.

  RUN! Trepis bellowed in his head.

  Xander, seeing no reason not to listen, sprinted across the room and out the open door. As he turned down the hall, he could hear Tom’s voice stammering as he called for backup. With the sound of the cop’s cries fading behind him, Xander took another turn only to be greeted by another empty corridor.

  Where was everybody?

  The evenly spaced lights that lined the hall hummed and shone down with a sterile glow that made the barren stretch seem longer. Xander shivered as a cold sensation swept over him.

  Hurrying around a corner, he skidded to a stop in front of a smiling, tattooed woman with fiery hair. Something in her grin sent another shiver up Xander’s spine and his head throbbed harder. He took a step back, staggering in the process and almost falling. The woman echoed his retreat with a fluid advance, her high heels sounding in the empty hall. Slack jawed and terrified, he watched as she lifted off of the ground. She hovered for a moment, a menacing chuckle escaping her well painted lips before she shot towards him.

  Shit! Go back!

  Xander spun on his heels and dashed back down the hall the way he’d come. He turned his head back and saw that his pursuer—toes dragging across the tile floor—was close behind. Startled by the sight, his feet caught and he toppled over. As he struggled to get up, the bulbs lining the hallway burst and rained glass down on either side of him. With the woman’s haunting laughter closing in, Xander pulled himself to his feet and started back for the room. Eager to be back in the company of the armed officer he sprinted with everything he had. As the lights lining the hall continued to explode, forcing him to run through the broken glass, his shoes skidded and scraped on the shards, threatening to send him toppling once again.

  Once inside the room he slammed the door behind him and jammed a nearby chair under the knob to keep it closed. Not wanting to present himself as a target, Xander dropped down onto his belly and joined Tom, who had overturned the hospital bed in an attempt to shield himself from the shooter’s sights. He felt helpless as he ducked his head deeper behind the cover of the stained mattress and steel frame.

  The gun! Trepis called out.

  “Since when are you so goddam aware?” Xander growled, ignoring the officer’s confused look.

  Uncertain of what his friend meant, he scanned the room until he spotted Shady’s body, still sprawled in the middle of the room, and the firearm still secured in the holster at its side. Frowning, he crept towards the corpse, his hand outstretched in an attempt to retrieve the weapon. With only several inches separating him from the pistol, the door began to shake for a moment against the chair before being ripped from the wall.

  Xander turned his head—arm still outstretched for the gun—and saw the redhead floating at the entrance. Wasting no time, he unlatched the clasp that secured the weapon and turned to aim it at the woman, who narrowed her eyes at the sight of the gun. At that moment, an invisible grip snared the pistol, yanking it from Xander’s grip and disassembling it in front of him.

  Tom, releasing the grip on his radio, shot up to his feet and drew his own gun, holding it steady with both hands, “Hands where I can see ‘em, lady!”

  The redhead lifted an eyebrow, still floating in midair.

  Xander’s eyes went wide, “Are you fucking serious?”

  The woman gave a wicked smile, locking her scary eyes on Xander, “What’s the matter, Stryker? Don’t you still want to die?”

  Xander scowled, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?” his anger flared up and the bed shook and dragged across the floor several inches.

  Tom jumped at the sound of the shifting bed but avoided looking behind him as he tightened his grip on the gun, “I said show me your hands, bitch!”

  The woman grinned, looking at the cop for the first time and holding her hands up. She moved back and glanced down the hall, smiling and allowing a hulking pale man with greased-back black hair to enter. Seeing Xander, the newcomer gave a toothy smile.

  A loud roar came from outside and Xander—not taking his eyes off the newcomer—crouched down, afraid that the shooter had started up again. It wasn’t until the shadow was cast from the passing police helicopter that he relaxed. Tom stood rigid, made all the more confident from the arrival of the requested backup, and tightened his grip on his pistol. Uncertain, he shifted his aim back-and-forth between the floating woman and the man.

  Unafraid of the cop or the weapon he wielded, the woman drifted down to the ground, a soft giggle ringing out. “Tiro?” she cooed.

  The man stiffened and turned with a glare towards Tom, a long step bringing him dangerously close. Seeing the approaching threat, Tom squeezed the trigger.

  The man grimaced and twitched as a flower of gore blossomed on his left shoulder. Tom shivered as the man looked back up at him, smirking, before he vanished. Xander blinked in astonishment and when his eyes opened again the man stood inches in front of him. Tom’s body shook and dropped, his head resembling a crushed fruit.

  The pale man growled in Xander’s face and grabbed him by the throat, lifting until the tips of his shoes scraped against the floor. He smiled and his lips twitched as a pair of fangs began to extend, “To drink from the son of Stryker,” he began to lean his face closer, “what a privilege.”

  Xander’s eyes opened in fear as he saw the man’s face grow nearer and he screamed, throwing out a wave of energy in a panic. The impact struck him square in the chest, knocking him back and forcing him to drop Xander in order to regain his footing. Free of the iron grip, Xander was caught off guard by a bestial growl that crawled up the strange man’s throat and burst from his mouth along with the stink of death. The odor lingered in Xander’s throat and he gagged as he was grabbed and flung across the room.

  “Just kill him, you moron!” The woman yelled; the contents of the room quaking as she did.

  The man frowned and lumbered towards him once again. Seeing no other option, Xander hopped to his feet and, head still reeling, jumped through the window frame. The fire escape outside shook as he steadied himself on it and the cool air stung his bare, heaving chest. From there he could see he was several floors up from the busy street and, confirming that the man was still coming at him, began to descend the ladder.

  The roar of the police helicopter caught his attention as he gripped a rung and stared at the reinforcements Tom had called for as they closed-in on the building across the street and hovered over a crouched figure on the rooftop. A booming voice shot out like a cannon:

  “POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR AND STEP AWAY FROM THE WEAPON!”

  The figure, perched at the peak of the office building, stood up straigh
t. Xander squinted against the mid-afternoon sun, watching as the gunner extended his arm towards the helicopter. Though he couldn’t be sure from the distance, Xander was sure that the man was giving the helicopter and the police inside it the finger before securing his weapon and jumping down from his post.

  The helicopter, unable to keep track of the fleeing assailant, shot forward and began to hook around for a better angle. Frowning at the scene, Xander watched as the gunner stopped for a moment, looking out in his direction, and shivered under the cold stare.

  “Get him, you idiot!” the woman’s voice boomed above Xander’s head.

  “Are you insane?” the man scoffed at her, “We need to get out of here NOW!”

  The roar of the approaching helicopter grew louder as the police brought it around and Xander dared a glance back towards the opposite rooftop.

  Seeing the cops coming his way, the gunner adjusted the rifle on his back before taking off at a full, swift sprint across the rooftop. Xander’s eyes went wide, palms growing sweaty against the fire escape as the man who had been trying to kill him kicked up a cloud of dust in his wake as he headed for the edge. Just as Xander was sure that he had nowhere else to go the gunner shuddered and dropped forward, adding his hands to the effort, and began running like a wild animal on all fours.

  “There’s no way,” Xander muttered under his breath, “He’s not going to…”

  As he ran out of rooftop, the gunner hurled himself over the edge of the building and allowed himself to drop like an Olympic diver. He lingered in midair for several seconds longer before reaching out and grabbing onto a window-washing scaffold and swinging through one of the windows. The startled cries and shouts of the office’s inhabitants could be heard from across the street and, before disappearing into the dim interior of the building, Xander watched for an uncomfortable moment as the man turned and looked back at him with an animal sneer.

  The helicopter slowed then and Xander growled in frustration as it hovered in the air.

  Above him, there was a loud crash from the room he had just escaped from followed by an even louder bellow from the man:

  “Fucking mutt!” he roared. There was another crash, “Some great shot he turned out to be!”

  Xander frowned, deciding it was in his best interest to get as far away from the scene as possible.

  ****

  The cab ride home was an unpleasant one; reeking of stale farts that the driver replaced with new ones without the slightest sign of embarrassment. Xander, ignoring the gross driver as best he could, checked behind them several times for anything that could be following. When he was certain there was no immediate threat, he faced forward and tried to relax; catching sight of a hanging section of fat that hung from the driver’s neck that rippled with each imperfection in the road and stifled a dry heave.

  Finally, the cab pulled up at the address that Xander had specified and he opened the door and stepped out.

  “Th’ fare’s twen’ee-eight fort’five,” the cabby grumbled.

  “I haven’t got it,” Xander muttered.

  “Sonababitch!” the cabby yelled as he threw open the door and hoisted himself out, his gut snagging the steering wheel and giving birth to a new wave of obscenities, “Im’a kill ya’, ya’ robbing b’stard!”

  “Disgusting!” Xander muttered as he started across the lawn.

  No argument here. Trepis chimed in.

  The address he’d given the driver was several blocks away from his own home. He had known from the start that he didn’t have the money to pay the fare but felt that he needed a safer way to get home than walking. Running around the back of the house, he hopped the fence and cut through several bushes that separated the one house from another. From there, he crossed through the yard on the opposite side and slowed to a walk, leaving the cursing cabby several houses back.

  He was a block away when he first saw the smoke.

  As he got closer, his fears were confirmed: the roof of his house collapsing in a violent greeting of his return. Standing in front of the smoldering wreckage were three figures, all wearing black sweatshirts and long, black pants. Two of the three had black baseball caps on while the third wore a black bowler. Xander watched, horrified, from a distance as the last of his life burned to the ground, wondering why nobody else had seemed to notice or bothered to call the fire department.

  It’s time. The small boy’s voice echoed in his head. It was the first time he’d ever heard a voice besides Trepis’ and he wondered if he was finally going insane.

  Having seen enough of his burning home, he turned his attention to the three, who had noticed his arrival and were approaching. The closest—a younger-looking man—cracked his knuckles. As he neared, Xander noticed a pinkish stain on his chin and a shudder forced its way up his spine. The other cap-wearer was a dark-skinned woman with a tattoo of a snake that breached her collar and ended on her cheek. The figure in the bowler was a man whose black hair hung from under the hat in front of his left eye.

  Too much…

  It was all too much for him.

  Too much pain. Too much suffering. Too much anguish and guilt and doubt.

  Too much to hold back.

  Too much to keep it all locked in…

  As an unbearable itch—carrying with it an infernal heat—crept over Xander’s body, the young man in front of him crouched down like an angry cat then and launched himself several stories into the air. Squinting, Xander fought to keep his eyes focused on the unnatural spectacle as it was lost in the sun; after all that had happened, he once again began to question his sanity and begged reality to return the stranger’s feet back to the ground where they belonged. Still gawking into the sky, he was caught off guard by a powerful force and thrown down the length of the street, skipping like a stone over the concrete surface several times before finally rolling to a stop against the curb.

  Too much…

  It was too—

  His eyes rolled in his skull as he wrestled to get his bearings; the world spinning beneath him and keeping him off balance. Getting his left foot centered beneath him, he adjusted his right and tried to stand, only to feel the ground roll under him and drop him all over again.

  Behind him there was a soft thud, and Xander gave up on the effort to stand up in the hopes of coaxing his blurred vision to focus.

  Distortion…

  A kaleidoscope of fractured light and rolling shadows…

  Xander groaned and blinked, watching as the previously airborne young man stepped towards him.

  The familiar sensation of a foot being driven into his ribs; harder and more sudden than he’d expected. As a dry heave ripped the oxygen from his lungs, Xander found himself once again crashing to the unforgiving street.

  … too much.

  Head still reeling, Xander fought to fill his empty lungs as he was lifted from the ground in an iron grip and shaken before being thrown…

  Xander could feel the impending heat growing as he hurdled towards the inferno that was consuming his home.

  Consuming his life!

  The brittle remains of the house proved too frail to stop Xander as he careened through the sidewall—an avalanche of ash and memories crashing down around him—and slammed into a flaming support beam. No longer able to support the burden of its purpose, the structure crumbled with a fiery hiss and he found himself trapped beneath the mass. Pinned under the scalding pressure and seeing every stolen moment of happiness he’d ever had go up in smoke, he began to succumb.

  “JUST FUCKING LET ME DIE!” he roared at the flames.

  Dammit, Xander! Fight!

  Xander blinked, feeling his tears evaporate before they could fall. “Mom…”

  Nothing can be done about that! Now get up! Get the fuck up!

  “Grandma…”

  Stop it! Sadness fixes nothing! Anger motivates change! USE YOUR ANGER AND FIGHT! FIGHT, GOD DAMN YOU!

  The sudden wave of intense heat overwhelmed everything else, and Xander
did nothing to stop it from consuming him. Though he could feel the burning remains of the beam holding him down—could smell the burning denim and flesh that had begun to feed it—he knew this new fire had nothing to do with his surroundings. Crying against everything that had befallen him, he pushed up and shook off the offending piece of wood and pulled himself to his feet. He saw his mother, her sweet smile and her curled strawberry-blonde hair. Her green eyes, long since closed, burned in his mind. He saw his Grandmother, with all her wisdom and calmness.

  Gone.

  All gone.

  He closed his eyes and let the visions of those he loved burn in his mind.

  And then he imagined Kyle…

  Use his anger? Up until then all his magical rages had been done by instinct—chaotic events that had turned themselves on.

  But what if he could control it?

  Though his eyes remained closed he could sense the strangers as they approached; the young man taking up the lead again. Inside his mind, Xander could envision the extended snarl stretching the jaws of each of his attackers; could feel their determination and hatred roll off of them in waves.

  Hatred?

  What could they know about hatred?

  “He’s still alive!” Xander felt a swell of disgust roll from the snake-woman—could practically see her thin lips curl in a sneer from the other side of the collapsed wall—and he felt another wave of energy rocketing towards him.

  Frantic to hold his ground, Xander threw his arms out in an attempt to hold himself up. The swell of energy he’d come to recognize as his own kicked up, then, and the ash and debris around him scattered in a momentary gust as his attackers’ wave collided with the house. As the dividing barricade burst towards him, the gust shifted and pushed back; the burning chunks of wood and furniture parting around Xander and splaying out in either direction. Growling against the whipping hair in his eyes, Xander fought to maintain his footing as his shoe dragged across the ashes of his home until the force finally died down around him.

  The three stopped in mid-stride as the dense cloud between them settled.

  Xander felt a swell of excitement at the sight of their confusion.